


From You I Have Been Absent

by warsfeil



Category: Psycho-Pass
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 22:36:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3746191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/warsfeil/pseuds/warsfeil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a different take on ginoza and kougami meeting; au post-season two that ignores the existence of the movie. a gentle summary would be "punching and then fucking", but with feelings, because this is psycho pass. </p>
<p>
  <i>"Gino," Kougami says, and Ginoza can feel his breathing stutter back into existence, filling his lungs with the air he'd stopped taking in out of shock.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	From You I Have Been Absent

Sometimes, Ginoza wonders how much Enforcers and Inspectors are really needed. Given how many Inspectors wind up with a demotion, it almost seems like it would be simpler to eliminate the human aspect and keep a few more hues light and innocuous. Then, sometimes, Ginoza winds up at the edge of Japan, on terrain that drones would be rendered useless on, where Sybil can barely reach and they're using a relay to make sure their Dominators work, and Ginoza realizes that the human element is still key in the society that Sybil has made. For now.

Hauling himself up over another half-wall that, really, should have been torn down decades ago, Ginoza can't help but hope that they find the criminal they're chasing soon. He knows the man -- Haruto Kobayashi, age 31 -- is more likely to stick to the quicker paths, to the ones that will allow him to get further, faster. But Tsunemori had taken that path, Kunizuka at her side, and Ginoza had been relegated to climbing up into the densely forested hills, walking past evidence of a society that he had little context for. It had been rendered outdated, out of range for all the city-dwellers who would never come, or need to come, this far out. Not unless they were specifically trying to avoid Sybil, which wouldn't occur to most of them. That kind of thinking would darken your hue. 

Ginoza misjudges a step and comes down harder than he means to, reaching a hand out to steady himself. Metal meets the earth with a louder sound than he prefers, and he immediately silences his breathing when he realizes the ground cover has been disturbed. Recently, and by something much larger than a squirrel or a raccoon. He slowly straightens, tightening his grip on his Dominator and hoping that his tenuous reach towards Sybil doesn't fail at the last moment. 

There are small, long abandoned houses up here, little more than ancient bricks and metal that have stood the test of time and decay. There's too much room for someone to hide, and while Ginoza doesn't fear Kobayashi jumping out at the last second to try and injure him, he does feel a bone-deep exasperation at the thought of being evaded just because of a terrain advantage. He moves forward for his own cover, listening as hard as he can: there are more birds here, more wildlife, the sounds of an area uninhabited by humans loud in his ears. It's hard to pick out anything distinctly human, and it takes him until the last second to pinpoint it, the sound of foliage under an unmistakably human gait. Ginoza whirls around with the Dominator outstretched, the voice ringing in his ears, and it figures that the Wi-Fi of the present day would fail immediately when he needs it-- his arm is already moving to make up for it, ready to bring Kobayashi in by force if he needs to, when he processes what he's seeing and stops.

The Dominator falls to the ground, Ginoza's fingers limp in his surprise, and there's a part of him that's thankful it isn't Kobayashi, that he isn't within range of Sybil, that the Dominator can't make contact, because where would he be then?

"Gino," Kougami says, and Ginoza can feel his breathing stutter back into existence, filling his lungs with the air he'd stopped taking in out of shock.

"Kou," Ginoza says, and he can't believe how his voice sounds, can't quite pinpoint what mix of emotions is in there (relief-longing-anger-fear and too many other things to even begin to count), but can't stop it, either. Kougami takes a step forward, and Ginoza does, too, not sure where he wants to go with the movement until he's there-- and then suddenly his hand is balling into a fist, everything is spilling over at once and he's landing a solid hit on Kougami's jaw before either of them can really process it.

Kougami goes down, caught off guard by the action. He stares up at Ginoza for a second, reaching up a hand to massage his cheek, and then he starts laughing. He laughs and it's such a painfully familiar sound that Ginoza wants to hate him for it, wants to hate him for the fact that he can't hate him, even after everything. Ginoza goes down, too, dropping into a crouch and trying to frown and smile at the same time. At least Ginoza remembered to use his organic arm.

"Damn, Gino," Kougami says. "That's not the greeting I was going for."

"Why are you here?" Ginoza asks, because he's not sure he can handle spending time on pleasantries. It isn't like they ever bothered with those before. Trying to do them now would just ring false and hang heavy in the air, and there's already so much between them Ginoza isn't sure he can see clearly through the haze.

Kougami looks apologetic, at that, in that way he always does when he feels guilty about something and doesn't want to explain. "Sorry," he says, "but you shouldn't know. Knowing is half the crime."

Ginoza resists the urge to roll his eyes, resists the urge to push up glasses he doesn't wear anymore. "You don't have to worry about that. My coefficient..." Ginoza laughs a little, but it comes out hollow, even to his own ears. "It's too late for that." 

There's a moment of silence as Kougami looks at him-- _really_ looks at him, takes in the ponytail and his discarded glasses and the torn glove and the coat and everything that's changed-- and when Kougami makes eye contact again, there's a thread of resigned sadness that feels like a punch to the gut. Someone else Ginoza has disappointed, then.

"We're trying to stop Sybil. Smuggling people out... working with other countries," Kougami explains, and it isn't much, but Ginoza doesn't really care, either. A half-explanation is enough: a peace offering, after a fashion, because they're on the same level, now, and there's no use pretending otherwise.

"You're not after someone named Kobayashi, are you?"

"Doesn't ring a bell," Kougami says, and Ginoza believes him, because at this point there isn't anything else to do. There's the knowledge that Kougami is working directly against them: Ginoza and Tsunemori and everyone trying to uphold the system, but Aoyanagi still weighs heavy on Ginoza's heart, too many deaths and too many of them unnecessary and he can feel his coefficient rising whenever he thinks about it too long. Ginoza thinks that his place is still exactly where he is, because if anyone is going to overthrow the system from the inside, it'll be Tsunemori and her inversion of all preconceived ideas. 

There's silence for a longer moment than Ginoza would like. They used to have companionable silence, once, back when they were still companions, but that's far out of reach, now. Ginoza can't move back into the past no matter how much he might want to, no matter how much he might wish he'd realized what really mattered to him before everything slipped through his fingers.

"Gino," Kougami says, and before he can say anything else, before he can get it out, Ginoza blurts: "I miss you."

Miss. Not even past tense, because that's too much of a lie: he didn't just miss him in the past, he misses him now, he hates that Kougami's room is someone else's now, hates that he never hears his voice on Kougami's lips or smells cigarettes like he used to or has anyone to chastise about being a complete pain. 

Kougami looks surprised, for a second -- not that Ginoza misses him, because that would be obvious; Ginoza missed him everyday when Kougami was first demoted, of course he would miss him now -- but because Ginoza actually said it. Once, that would have been unthinkable.

"Gino," he says, and his voice is rough in his throat and there are several things that Ginoza can't handle right now and one of them is hearing Kougami's voice take on that quality. He knows talking won't help, knows from experience that no matter how many times he tells Kougami to shut up the man will keep speaking, so instead Ginoza gives up, does something else that would have been unthinkable, once. He fists a hand in Kougami's dirty shirt, drags him forward and kisses him hard enough that maybe it will make up for all the days spent apart, all the days Kougami was gone and all the days before that, when Ginoza thought Kougami was farther out of reach than he really was.

Kougami tastes exactly like he should, like smoke and ash and a deep, fulfilling bitterness, and Ginoza feels himself relaxing into it. Kougami kisses like he's starving, like he's going to die unless he keeps touching Ginoza, and Ginoza wants to hold onto him as long as he can to make sure that doesn't happen. If he holds Kougami close enough, if he holds on tight enough, this time-- but they both know this is only temporary, and that just makes Ginoza kiss harder.

Kougami reaches up with his hands, tangles his fingers in Ginoza's hair and pulls, just hard enough to make Ginoza let out a stuttering breath. Ginoza breaks the kiss and buries his face into Kougami's neck, trying to take a moment to reorient himself, but Kougami just takes the opportunity to bite hard at the shell of Ginoza's ear, and that gets an actual moan. 

"You have to stop," Ginoza says, but his voice is breathy and insufficient and even he knows it. He swallows, and tries again, a little more firmly: "I'm not having sex on the ground."

Kougami laughs into Ginoza's ear, nips at the lobe and trails a kiss down his neck before moving, standing up before Ginoza can do more than remind himself to keep breathing. 

"Come on," Kougami says, holding a hand out and hauling Ginoza to his feet. "One of them still has a roof."

"Is it really going to be any cleaner in there--" Ginoza starts, but the protest is just automatic; he's missed Kougami too much to turn away the promise of his body, and the sound of Kougami's amused noise is too much like a second try at the past to turn away from. 

It _is_ cleaner inside, though; it's obvious that Kougami has been here for awhile, that he didn't just happen to coincidentally arrive at the same time and place as Ginoza. There's papers on the desk, there's equipment that Ginoza could start to think about the usage of, but he doesn't have time, because Kougami is shoving his knees back against the frame of a couch with a blanket stretched over it.

"Don't look at anything too hard," Kougami says, his voice carrying despite the way he seems to be breathing the words down Ginoza's neck. "You don't want to know."

Ginoza wants to correct him, wants to say that he wants to know, wants to understand -- wants to follow Kougami to the end of the Earth because Kougami was right all along -- but he knows he can't; it isn't his place, and they both know that. 

"I already know all your secrets," Ginoza says, instead, slipping his glove off and letting cold metal move under the hem of Kougami's shirt. The end result is a pleasing, hissing intake of breath, followed by Kougami groaning and leaning in farther.

"Yeah?" Kougami shoots back, shifting the way they're leaning against the couch until Ginoza topples backwards, falls onto the blanket and it's barely anything, stretched across the frame of a couch and pressed against the floor, but it smells like Kougami and Ginoza doesn't care. "I know yours, too, Gino." And it's true, because just hearing Kougami say his name makes something in Ginoza's stomach twist, and he twists his fingers in Kougami's shirt and strips it off.

"You always wear less than I do," is the only thing Ginoza can manage as a retort, and it falls short, in some ways, but he doesn't care, because he's tracing the lines of Kougami's stomach, strong muscle that quivers under one warm hand and one cold. 

"It's more fun to strip you slowly." Kougami's voice is low, and the words go lower on Ginoza. He'd kill him, if he was still in a frame of mind that allowed for embarrassment. There isn't any of that left, though, not anymore. That sort of thing is for people who are still trying to keep pure hues, and while Ginoza's still pretty sure he's lighter than Kougami, he's still a latent criminal, branded and imprisoned, and he doesn't have the desire to be anything else. Not if this is where he's gotten himself. 

"Then _do_ it," Ginoza says, breathy and demanding. He raises his arms obligingly, letting Kougami shove his jacket off. His shirt doesn't take much longer, and Kougami doesn't even bother to take off the tank top Ginoza's started habitually wearing as his last layer, he just shoves it up, pins Ginoza's arms to the blanket and leans down to nip at his collarbones.

It feels like the action tears Kougami's name straight out of Ginoza the same way it makes him arch up into it, flexing his wrists against Kougami's grip with the knowledge that he could break it if he wanted and absolutely no desire to do so.

Kougami laughs against him, licking a long stripe down Ginoza's chest that feels too hot and then too cold, a shiver under the skin that Ginoza can't quite shake out.

"Leave your hands there," Kougami says, and Ginoza starts to object, but Kougami drags his own hands down instead, starts to undo Ginoza's belt, and Ginoza's protests are silenced. He lifts his hips, raises up off the blanket and even if he's aware of how far he's fallen he can't help but look away from the sight of it, his cock hard and obvious against his body. There's an old urge there, to cover himself, to try and reassure himself that this isn't wrong -- but it is, it's all wrong, it's entirely wrong, and he knows it, but he doesn't care. 

Kougami doesn't seem to care, either, given the way he's looking down at Ginoza. 

"Hey," Ginoza says, trying for a chastising tone and getting about a quarter of the way there. "This isn't a one-person show." He doesn't move his hands from his side, but he moves his legs, draws one up on either side of Kougami and then drags his feet down the back of Kougami's legs. Kougami might have started out with fewer articles of clothing, but he still had his pants on, and Ginoza objected to that on multiple levels, now.

"Yeah, yeah," Kougami replies, but he's just as obliging as Ginoza's been, sitting up and shoving his pants down off his hips. Ginoza breaks his unspoken promise not to move, then, surges upwards because god, Kougami looks just the same with his clothes off, with a few scars added and Ginoza needs to reaffirm everything, trace his fingers across every dip and crack and every new mark because who knows when they're going to manage to meet again?

Kougami lets him, for a few minutes, lets Ginoza try and imprint everything into his memory, update the visuals he'll see at night when he's alone and trying to pretend he isn't going to jerk off to a half-remembered naked Kougami and the ashy, sharp smell of Kougami's body, too many cigarettes and more sweat than anyone should ever find sexy. Ginoza's pretty sure he's broken in more ways than one, because if he could wrap up in that scent right now he would, wear it like a jacket and hold onto it in place of Kougami himself.

Then Kougami moves, wraps his hands back around Ginoza's wrists and presses them back down to the blanket. "I thought I said to leave them there?" 

"I don't listen to you," Ginoza says, and it goes both ways, really: they've both spent too long not listening to each other. 

"You should start," Kougami says, but there's no heat in it, just amusement as he shifts his weight, moves down and bites at Ginoza's inner thight. Ginoza lets out a loud gasp that doesn't quite cover the moan he wanted to make, surprise a poor cover-up for the way the feeling went straight to his cock. When Kougami leans in and licks a long, decisive stripe up the side of Ginoza's cock, Ginoza has to fist his hands in the blanket to keep from jerking up into the feeling, to trying to follow that heat however he can.

Kougami laughs, the feeling nothing but a tease. "Hey, Gino. Remember when I used to have to hold you down? You'd squirm so much you'd wind up halfway across the bed, otherwise."

" _Fuck_ , Kou--" is all Ginoza can manage, because he does remember. He remembers too well, and the memory makes him impatient, makes his thighs shake with the echoes of all those early college days and days when there wasn't the barrier of Inspector and Enforcer between them.

"Did you miss it that much?"

"I miss _you_ that much," Ginoza says, and it's too emotional, too needy, not sexy enough by far, but it makes Kougami look at him like Ginoza's an endangered species that might go extinct if Kougami doesn't protect him.

"Yeah," Kougami replies, and his voice is quiet, "I miss you that much, too." It's a lame response, they both know that, but Kougami makes up for it by searing their mouths back together, tangling his hands back into Ginoza's hair until he gets the hair tie free and hair comes spilling down Ginoza's shoulders. Kougami shifts their hips together and Ginoza makes a sharp, desperate noise into the kiss, because it's only a fraction of the contact that he needs, that he craves. 

"I don't have anything I can use--" Kougami starts, and Ginoza laughs, because for once there's a problem he can solve. 

"I have oil," he says, and he moves his hands, groping at the pocket of his coat. It's oil for his arm, just in case; he doesn't like having to get more maintenance done on it than is absolutely necessary, which means he takes care of as much as he can himself. But it's just a base oil, nothing that should irritate the skin, given that he's had to smear it on the remaining skin of his shoulder even when everything was still tender.

"Okay," Kougami says, and kisses him again. They probably could have made without, done something else, rutted against each other like they were 16 in Ginoza's too-quiet house, but Ginoza wants to feel Kougami inside him again, wants to feel everything and hold onto it like he won't be able to hold onto Kougami. Like he's never able to hold onto Kougami.

It's been awhile. It's been too long, and Kougami's moving a little too fast to be entirely comfortable, but he doesn't care. He exhales through his teeth, a quiet hiss as he shifts his hips up into the pain of it, the burning stretch. 

"Don't stop," he warns, because he doesn't need Kougami to withdraw out of concern now. Kougami doesn't; he wraps his spare arm around Ginoza, instead.

"Sit up." 

Ginoza does, and it's only after he does that Kougami withdraws his fingers. Ginoza shivers with the absence and makes up for it by plastering himself to Kougami, pressing against him and knowing exactly what he's supposed to do because they've done this before, and time hasn't dulled his senses any. 

It's still a little painful, when he slides down onto Kougami's cock. It's not more than he can take -- nothing will ever compare to losing his arm, and nothing will compare to all the people he's lost (and how he knows he's going to lose Kougami again) -- but it pushes the envelope.

"Go slow, Gino," Kougami breathes, like it isn't hard for him, too, like his muscles aren't taut underneath Ginoza.

"Don't," Ginoza starts, unable to get enough air into his lungs through the haze that's clouding his perception. "Tell me what to do, Enforcer."

Kougami laughs, dragging his nails down Ginoza's back and dragging a gasp out of him. He finally fits all the way down onto Kougami's cock, rests there for a second, quivering like a leaf in a typhoon, and wonders how anything is going to compare to this, when he's back at headquarters with nothing but a lonely room and his own hand. 

"Then _move_ ," Kougami says, the strain clear in his voice, and Ginoza does. He's going to feel the burn in his thighs, the burn throughout his body, and he wants all of it, needs all of it. Kougami moves with him, shifts at every appropriate interval. Ginoza is certain that Kougami is holding him up, because even if they're kneeling on the hard floor and the blanket, Ginoza feels like he might collapse at any second. 

When Kougami reaches around and wraps a hand around Ginoza's cock, it feels like the floor has dropped out entirely. 

"Kou-- _Kou_ \--" Ginoza manages, voice choked and struggling around such a simple syllable. Everything feels like more than he can handle, and even his memories of what this used to feel like don't do anything to reduce the feeling. 

"Gino, Gino, come on." Kougami doesn't sound any better, doesn't sound like he's anymore in control than Ginoza, and Ginoza can take comfort in that-- they're each as lost as the other, and it's a bittersweet revelation. 

It doesn't take much longer. It's been weeks since Ginoza even bothered with his own hand-- he wishes he could time it with Kougami better, but he doesn't manage it, barely manages to keep from screaming Kougami's name when he comes. It's nothing but pure feeling, blinding enough in its physicality that it wipes out everything else.

He's only just beginning to come down when Kougami finishes, hot inside of him in a careless way that they haven't done in the better part of a decade.

"Fuck, Gino," Kougami says, carefully lowering him back down to lay down on the blanket. Ginoza doesn't release his grip on Kougami, keeps his arms tight around him and holds on for dear life, careful only not to hold on too tight with his left arm. He destroyed enough cans when he was first starting out to know to be cautious, even if the strength has been tailored to fit him. 

Kougami lies next to him, half on him, an arm around him and a breathless smile on his face. His expression has so much it hurts to look into it, and Ginoza knows that his face can't be any better. Ginoza opens his mouth to try and say something-- there's so much that needs to be said, there's so many things they've left hanging for so long--

"So, been working out much?" Kougami says, completely annihilating Ginoza's train of thought with all the delicacy Ginoza has come to expect. 

"What?"

Kougami laughs. "You've got abs." As if to prove his point, Kougami drags his hand across them. Ginoza squirms slightly, still too drowsy to feel like moving. 

"There isn't much else to do," Ginoza shoots back, suddenly self-conscious. It's a hell of a time to feel that way, when he's already naked on his back in a run-down shack from the previous century, curled up with a wanted criminal, but Ginoza's sense of propriety has never exactly intersected with his actual desires. 

"Looks good on you," Kougami says. "The coat, too."

Ginoza stops before he even starts, because that's it: that's something they can't say, that's something they don't have time to touch on. Ginoza's been holding tight to Tsunemori to keep himself standing, and bless her because she's twenty centimeters shorter and still bears his weight and so much more, but it should have been Kougami. It should have been Masaoka. They should have been there to support everyone else, not part of the loss, and the jacket, the fucking jacket and the arm and Ginoza knows what he's doing, what he does, when he wears it, when he drinks his father's whiskey and when the word _ojouchan_ falls from his lips, but he doesn't know what else to do but pay tribute.

"Thanks," he finally says, his voice thick. He doesn't say anything else; he buries his face into the junction of shoulder and neck that Kougami has carelessly left exposed, tries to pretend his breath isn't shaky. Tries to pretend this isn't going to end the way so much else has.

They lay there for awhile, before Tsunemori calls. It's audio-only, and Ginoza has never been more thankful, because he doesn't want to try to explain why he isn't wearing a shirt and his hair is a mess and he's inside. 

"We found him," Tsunemori says, and Ginoza wishes he could tell her, _no, I found him_ , but knows better. Kougami is sitting up and there's a cigarette in his grip, and Ginoza can't help but smile at the fact that some things don't change. 

"I'll be right back down," Ginoza says. Letting him go off on his own wasn't exactly protocol to begin with, but Shimotsuki was down with the flu and they were still short Inspectors, so everyone was turning a blind eye to what Division 1 did, these days, so long as everyone came back alive and intact and with no Inspectors having rising coefficients. 

"Okay," is all Tsunemori says; she sounds a little breathless, and Ginoza imagines there was at least a little running involved in catching Kobayashi. Ginoza probably sounds a little winded, too, but hopes she'll assume it's just from climbing.

They disconnect, and Ginoza sits up, away from the heat of Kougami's body. Kougami doesn't make a move to get dressed when Ginoza does, just sits there on the blanket on the floor and smokes his cigarette and watches Ginoza with a level of intensity that would have made Ginoza blush, once. 

"Don't tell her you saw me," Kougami says, catching Ginoza by the shirt collar and dragging him in for a kiss that tastes exactly like Ginoza imagines licking an ash tray would. 

"I won't," Ginoza promises. He lingers for a moment, in Kougami's space, before he finally pulls himself away. Puts distance between them, because it isn't any easier like that, but it's easier to pretend. "If it ever comes down to it ... and you need help. You--"

"I know," Kougami says. "It's better this way."

There's a thousand words Ginoza could say, a million accusations, but they're all too angry in their truth, and he swallows them all.

"I," Ginoza starts, awkwardly, because this isn't the time for it but he knows he'll never find the time if he always waits and he isn't missing his chance again. "I love you."

Kougami has the grace to look surprised, which Ginoza considers a good look on him, when he's naked. (Most looks are good on a naked Kougami Shinya, Ginoza is pretty sure, but he tries not to think about that, because he needs to leave.) Kougami moves forward again, kisses Ginoza again and this one isn't a goodbye, it's a promise, Ginoza can taste it and feel it as deep as his bones, and he tries to promise as hard as he can right back without saying a word.

"I love you," Kougami manages, finally, his voice a gravelly whisper, and Ginoza nods, then turns and leaves before he can rethink his position. 

It takes him half the time to get back down than it did to get up, but it's still enough time to compose himself, get his hair back into a manageable condition, and by the time he gets there, he's reasonably sure he doesn't look any different than usual. Kunizuka doesn't seem to suspect anything, and Kobayashi is staring at the ground of the paddy wagon looking like he hopes it might eat him. 

"Good work," Tsunemori says.

Ginoza offers her a smile. "On your end," he says, walking in to sit down. In the few seconds before the wagon closes, he watches Tsunemori pause and look away, a familiar scent catching her attention, and wishes he could tell her: _he'll come back someday_.

He doesn't, and it isn't a certainty, but he believes in it anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> why doesn't sybil have satellite wifi? well... because... reasons, i don't know, maybe they never thought they'd need wifi or something. don't ask me these questions this is 99% just for porn WHY IS THIS CANON SO PAINFUL WHY DOES EVERYTHING DESTROY ME I JUST WANT TO WRITE THESE LOSERS HAVING SEX. also, i did actually edit this, for once, but i'm sorry i can't end my sordid love affair with the em dash. 
> 
> at this point it's a countdown to me writing a barista au or something-- 
> 
> also: i told you i'd write ginoza punching kougami in the face and then sloppy makeouts. i fucking told you. 
> 
> also also: i am terrible at titling things so i'm literally to the point where i'm just grabbing lines from shakespeare, i'm sorry, i'm a pretentious parody of myself.


End file.
